


Unaware

by coolasdicks



Series: Too Rough!Verse [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medicinal Drug Use, Sequel, i mean prescription pain killers, not weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:30:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolasdicks/pseuds/coolasdicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too Rough’s sequel featuring recovery!Michael, where his overuse of pain killers is addressed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unaware

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Too Rough.
> 
> Michael-centric, but also a lot of Geoff. In fact, I’d say Geoff-Michael centric. Again, just so much hurt/comfort and then some fluff gosh, i had the fuzzies while writing parts of this.

Michael was not a huge fan of vanilla sex.

The others – meaning Ray and Gavin – would tell him that he was lucky to be included at all right now, but Michael’s thrumming libido was  _not_ sated by just laying there like a dead fish while someone blew him. Yes, it got him off. Yes, it felt good.

No, he was not happy.

He was beginning to suspect that he just wasn’t as attractive with a huge blue and green bruise covering the right side of his torso. Maybe the guys didn’t find the large white splint very sexy. Michael knew he sure didn’t, but if he dared to touch it, he would be scalped before the fabric even left his skin. He was officially not allowed to change his own bandaging now and often made cooing noises at Geoff or Ryan or whoever it was changing the dressing like a baby, because that’s what he felt like. A child having its diaper changed.

After just four days of this, Michael was ready to be healed up now.

The only perks he was enjoying was having everyone waiting on him, hand and foot, and while he purposefully overused them for the first forty-eight hours, he realized that the guys were willing to put up with his childish behavior if it meant his pain was relieved. Michael immediately stopped asking for glasses of water for his pills, stopped asking for napkins when he really didn’t need one, stopped asking for help to the bathroom when he needed to go. He may’ve still have been grumpy about his circumstances, but his boyfriends were just trying to help, and really, wasn’t it his own fault that he was here?

He still requested help with showering, half-heartedly in the hopes of shower sex but mostly to hold him up so he didn’t black out from having the water pelt the battered, bruised skin. It was usually Jack who helped him with that, as it was easiest for the big man to hold him up. Michael wouldn’t dare ask Geoff, who would probably drown him in the water.

Geoff was still angry. He was making sure Michael knew his wrath, though, barely ever leaving the redhead’s side. Gray eyes seemed to follow his every movement, narrowing when Michael winced or sucked in a pained breath as he did so often. Unlike the others, who would ask if he were alright or needed anything, Ray and Geoff wouldn’t acknowledge it. While Ray wasn’t quite as bitter as Geoff was acting, the brunette was certainly cold in his own right. At least Michael knew Ray wasn’t going to stab him with a fork at dinner. With Geoff, however, he had his doubts.

They had an extended dining room table so they could fit all six of them. The Gents were on one side while the Lads sat on the other, the seating arrangements occasionally changing, but it was always split like that. Lads and Gents.

Somehow, Michael always managed to find himself sitting directly across from Geoff.

The older man was stabbing his food violently, and Michael got the distinct feeling that Geoff was wishing he could be implanting that fork somewhere else. Michael would glare up at the tattooed man, meeting eyes with him, but always seemed to be the first one to break the staring contest. While he normally lost to Geoff on an average day anyway, it felt like he was losing to everyone these days.

He looked back down to his plate, glaring at his peas as if they’d personally offended him. His cheeks were flushed out of slight embarrassment. He hated this feeling.

It was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. The pitying glances rivaled the careful handling on his most hated list. The emotional fragility warning wasn’t as severe as he’d been expecting, which was good, but the physical one was now stamped across his forehead. He wasn’t allowed sex. No wrestling. He couldn’t even do Rage Quit, but he wasn’t really complaining about that one.

For the next six to eight weeks, Michael was a porcelain doll. After that, he was forever a butterfly with glass wings.

_Fragile._

“Careful on your peas there, Michael,” Jack said with a laugh. “You’re going to stab through your plate.”

Michael stopped jabbing at the round vegetables, looking at Jack. “Don’t test me, Pattillo,” he said with an impish smile, holding his fork as if it were a weapon.

Jack laughed, but his reply fell short. Michael frowned at the familiar self-censoring. He’d been trying to goad his boyfriends into at least  _humoring_ him, but they always cut themselves off from replying to his teasing and provoking words. Michael looked down at his plate and sighed, setting his fork on his plate. The pain killers he was prescribed on made his appetite nearly non-existent. All he’d done was push his peas around. He made to get up, preparing himself with a deep, calming breath and placing his palms on the table.

“Eat.”

Geoff’s steely command made him freeze, the conversation grounding to a halt at the dinner table. The tattooed man’s stony gaze was unwavering, and the tone, bossy and firm which normally would’ve made his dick harden, instead made the redhead bristle.

He picked a single pea off the plate and popped it in his mouth, all the while never breaking eye contact with Geoff before turning and slamming the door to one of the three spare bedrooms they had.

He slid the container of pill from him pocket as he sat on the bed, hissing at the spike of pain that shot through his sternum. Sliding a few down his throat, he tightening his fist around the small orange bottle before his chest filled up with unreasonable, frustrated anger, and he threw the bottle at the wall in a short burst of rage. The cap flew off, and small pills went everywhere, scattering on the floor and bouncing off the walls. He watched the last of them land somewhere on the carpet before finally sighing and dragging himself off the bed.

Kneeling on the floor hurt a helluva lot more than it had the right to. He plucked the stupid blue fuckers from the ground until they were all back in the bottle, but didn’t move to get up. Instead, he was hit with a wave of rather pleasant laziness and sprawled out, stretching his legs and arms, save for his right one since it was still in a sling. His legs popped and crackled in thanks after sitting and being inactive for so long.

He fell asleep like that, pill bottle in hand and mouth hanging open.

—-

He woke up snuggled against a hairy chest, the prickles against his nose waking him up. He knew who it was even without looking up.

A ruthless idea popped into Michael’s sleep-ridden head. Gavin had a notoriously high libido similar to his, and Michael had yet to convince the Brit that he was  _fine_ to have sex – really, who uses their ribcage that much anyway?

He placed a soft kiss in the middle of Gavin’s chest, feeling the deep hum rising from his belly. Gavin shifted in his sleep and wrapped his arms around Michael, pulling him close. The redhead pressed another, more firm kiss to a patch of skin just above his sternum, and kept doing so, moving closer and closer to his goal until he was scooted high enough to look into Gavin’s half-lidded eyes, a smirk lingering around his lips.

Michael gave him a devilish smile and leaned forward to connect their lips, tongue immediately tracing the seam of Gavin’s lips until the Brit finally opened his mouth after a short delay. Gavin’s own tongue was feeling brave, apparently, because it slipped past Michael’s lips to stroke at the insides of his mouth, pushing Michael’s smooth muscle back inside to tangle together.

Michael could only use his left arm, but he put it to good use. He traced a light, feathery path down Gavin’s chest, dipping in his navel and eating up the giggle that Gavin produced because of it. He continued down to slip inside his boxers, the hair getting thicker the closer he got to his target.

He palmed Gavin in his underwear, moaning sensually into the Brit’s mouth. Gavin’s hands came up to clutch at Michael’s shoulders, pulling him closer and grinding into his palm. He ran his hands down Michael’s arms and up his sides, hesitating when he reached the large white bandage covering his right ribs.

Michael palmed him roughly to take his mind off of it. It worked, and Gavin kissed him just as roughly, this time his tongue easily dominating Michael’s and taking control of the kiss.

Gavin pushed forward so he was leaning over the redhead in bed, one hand tilting Michael’s chin up and the other running a path up and down his chest. He went to straddle the redhead apparently without thinking, because while they were at the far end of the bed, slightly separated from the four other sleeping men, it was a vigorous movement that shook the bed slightly.

He also kneed Michael right in the ribs.

Michael broke away from the kiss to cry out in pain, curling in on himself and pushing his hands against Gavin’s chest, not nearly strong enough to move the man. Thankfully Gavin moved back anyway, immediately making a distressed noise and clutching at Michael’s wrists.

“Oh, Michael, Michael,” Gavin said worriedly, sliding his hands into Michael’s. Michael squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the hands in his, muffling his pained whimpers into the bedspread. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry, that was bloody dumb of me, I wasn’t thinking –”

“I’m fine, Gavin,” Michael gasped out, trying to shush the wide-eyed Brit.

“What are you doing?” a groggy, sleep-ridden voice asked them. Ryan was propped up on his elbow, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he looked at Michael and Gavin. He took in their compromising position and narrowed his eyes at Gav. “What are  _you_ doing?” he asked pointedly.

“Nothing,” Gavin reassured him, carefully climbing fully off Michael. He snuck a warm hand up Michael’s night shirt and pressed it against the sore spot through the bandage. “Sorry, love,” he said to Michael, “but now we have to check to make sure its not bleeding.”

The words must’ve stirred some weird protective instinct in Ray on a subconscious level. His head popped up from where it’d been nestled against Jack’s chest, his dark hair wild and tangled.

Gavin was looking faintly guilty as he pulled Michael gently from the bed, the redhead following willingly but grumbling as he did. He glanced back to see Ryan conversing with Ray in hushed tones. Geoff and Jack, thankfully, had not woken up. Michael wondered distantly who had carried him to bed as Gavin led him to the bathroom.

It was rare that Gavin was quiet for so long. The Brit was silent as he propped Michael up on the counter – the latter feeling abruptly exhausted from the sudden onset of pain – and raised the boy’s shirt over his head, being careful not to jostle his arm too much. He unwrapped the stretchy, foamy white fabric from around Michael’s middle and peeled back the bandage, which needed to be changed anyway.

He’d had minor surgery done on the area to fix the damage that had been done, the doctors amazed that he’d gone so long without seeking out medical help. The pressure on his ribcage had been so much that his bones, weakened from his recent immune problems and calcium deficiency, had simply broken, two ribs snapping at once and digging a nice little burrow into his lungs until finally puncturing the soft tissue when doing Rage Quit. There was a small incision, barely two inches, but it was still fresh and raw, the dressings needing to be changed often. It wasn’t usually Gavin who did him the favor, but the younger seemed to know what he was doing, hands steady and fast as he switched out the padding.

“There,” he said with satisfaction, patting the skin next to the big bandage. He wrapped him back up, both men suppressing a simultaneous yawn.

“Sorry about that, love,” Gavin said again, pecking Michael on the mouth but pulling away when Michael leaned forward. Michael felt like screaming; Gavin was back to gently rejecting him and rebuffing his advances.

Michael glared at him sullenly, trailing the taller man to the bedroom after taking a handful of painkillers to ease the flaring pain that was slow to fade. Ray was still sitting up, tapping away at his 3DS when he entered the room, glancing up and closing it. Gavin was already snuggled back under the sheets.

“Back to bed?” the brunette questioned with a smile, lifting the sheets to beckon the redhead. Michael instantly wormed his way between Ray and Gavin, the two being careful not to stick any elbows or knees in unpleasant or tender areas. Michael sighed into the warm skin of Ray’s chest as his legs tangled with Gavin’s.

He couldn’t go back to sleep, despite the tiredness pulling at his eyelids due to the drugs. So he simply enjoyed the sound of Ray’s heartbeat, and the rise and fall of Gavin’s chest on his back, and the soft snore coming from Jack. It was a Saturday, around eight in the morning said the alarm clock, but the dreary clouds outside tricked all the boys into sleeping longer. They hadn’t really planned anything for today, and Michael was crossing his fingers and praying for a lazy day. The way Gavin was sticking his head under the sheets and curling into a tight ball against his spin gave Michael high hopes.

Geoff was the first to fully wake, oddly enough. Michael knew with a heavy heart that it was because the man was having trouble sleeping the last few days, the circles under his eyes growing and face paling with each sleepless night. Feigning sleep as his boss started pulling on some clothes, Michael wondered if Geoff had heard the little fiasco a few hours ago.

His heart almost jumped out of his chest when a soft hand carded through his hair, warm fingers brushing the curly strands away from his face. It lingered for a few breath-stopping seconds, but pulled away eventually, and Michael peeked an eye open to watch Geoff soundlessly close the door to the bedroom as he started his day.

—-

He crawled out from under the rest of his boys after another hour or two, knowing that since the smell of coffee was drifting in from under the door, the rest would begin to wake as well. Rain was pattering against the windows in the background as he pulled on a pair of jeans and wrestled with a t-shirt until finally fitting it into place. Usually he had someone to help him get his sling adjusted, but he managed just fine on his own.

Taking some painkillers relieved the morning pain that Michael grew to dread. It was always the worst in the early hours, and today was feeling particularly rough, so he tried to smother the aches and stings with a bigger dose of the pills than normal. He was almost out of the little blue tablets, not many rattling in the bottle when he slid it into his back pocket.

Geoff was sitting at the kitchen table, coffee mug raised to his lips. Michael watched from around the corner as he didn’t drink from it, instead simply inhaling the warm fumes. His large hands tightened around the mug before lowering it, looking completive.

Any normal day, Michael would’ve sauntered up to give Geoff a heated coffee-kiss. Maybe sat in his lap some, his head under the older’s chin as he drank in the scent of his boss. He’d always felt protected in the presence of Geoff, but now the feeling was suffocating him.

The pain in his chest was back as he slunk forward to pour a glass of orange juice, ignoring Geoff’s presence completely. Feeling awkward, Michael faced the other direction, staring at the fridge in mock thought. He could feel Geoff looking at him. His head ached.

It was indeed a lazy day. Ryan and Gavin laid together on the couch, Gavin’s head propped up on Ryan’s chest as they watched Ray play a video game on the Xbox, an idle hand sometimes wandering to stroke at one’s hair or to hold the other’s hand. Ryan was humming under his breath.

Jack worked on his computer while Geoff ran some errands, the only one with the motivation to leave the house. He was gone the majority of the day, Michael not admitting to himself that he was waiting anxiously for his return. He watched the door as he mindlessly walked around the house, occasionally wincing at the ache in his chest and popping a pill into his mouth when it got too much.

Jack closed his laptop around four in the afternoon, stretching his lands over his head and yawning. With no trickery up his sleeve this time, Michael wound his arms around Jack’s middle, allowing himself to indulge in a short moment of weakness. Jack didn’t seem to understand but wrapped big arms around Michael anyway, being careful not to squeeze. It wasn’t a very satisfying hug, but Michael felt the emotional vice around his torso lessen as the seconds passed.

He pulled away with out a word, knowing that Jack was looking at him with confusion. For reassurance, Michael bumped his elbow against Jack’s, touching his cheek to the older man’s upper arm. His felt the muscles relax under his head. Jack may’ve not understood what that small gesture meant for Michael, but he had reciprocated it anyway, and that was enough for the redhead.

“You okay?” Jack asked in a low voice, rubbing Michael’s shoulder.

“Yep,” Michael answered. “Do you, uh, know when Geoff’ll be back?”

Jack glanced at the clock. “Soon,” he said vaguely. Michael got the feeling that Jack had no idea.

“’Kay,” Michael said as he pulled away. He took another pill and swallowed it down with somebody’s water glass that had been sitting on the counter, the ice long-ago melted.

Jack watched him take the medicine and looked sympathetic. “Go easy on those things – they’re not Tylenol,” he said. “If it hurts too much, we can go to the hospital and –”

“No, it’s fine,” Michael interrupted quickly, giving a nervous laugh. “I, uh… haven’t taken many today.”

_Stop lying._

Jack rubbed a soothing hand on Michael’s back as he got out of his chair and walked into the kitchen. His hand left a warm spot where it had touched his skin, just under the Ace bandage wrap.

“If it gets too much, let me know and I’ll drive you down to the clinic,” Jack told him, pulling a paper plate from the cabinet and beginning to make himself a sandwich. He was late on the lunch train – everyone had already eaten around noon, save for Michael and Jack, the latter having been too involved in his work. Michael simply wasn’t hungry enough to put the effort into making something.

The front door opened then, making Michael jump. He spun around to see Geoff edging his way into the house, arms stacked with grocery bags and vegetables from the produce stand down the road. He had to fight the impulse to dramatically greet Geoff by running into his arms, instead watching as the tattooed man struggled to carry all the bags inside.

Michael moved forward. “Want me to –”

Geoff cut him off hastily, before he could finish his offer. “Ryan, Gav? Help me carry the groceries in; we have a lot.”

Michael fumed by the front door, watching with sour glares as Ryan and Gavin went around him to help Geoff, looking apologetic. Gavin even pecked him on the cheek as he passed, and Michael couldn’t help but give the Brit a tired smile. His headache was back, seeming to correspond with Geoff’s presence. Shocking.

“Thanks, guys,” Geoff said when they finished making trips back and forth. Jack was already set to work putting all of the food away, having finished lunch when they were carrying in the many plastic bags. “Whew, long day.”

“You look a little pale, Geoff,” Jack said with a frown. He gestured to Michael. “We can put everything away. Go lay down.”

“No,” Geoff said quickly. “I’ll just help finish.” He grabbed a bag of canned beans from the counter, the plastic bag ripping from the heavy metals inside, and the cans rolled and bounced along the tile, one splitting open and spilling baby carrots everywhere. “Fuck!” Geoff cursed, voice cracking.

Michael automatically moved to help clean up the rapidly spreading puddle of carrot juice, but reeled back in shock when Geoff’s hand shot to his chest, forcefully shoving him back. It sent a spike of pain coursing through his torso, but Michael ignored it in favor of bursting out, “What’s your problem!”

Everyone seemed to freeze.

“I’ll take care of it,” Geoff said calmly, not looking up.

“Let me help you,” Michael ground out, frustration bubbling up in his throat. His voice came out tight.

There was a long pause, where Ray’s video game was paused and Jack stopped to watch the two of them. Gavin and Ryan were sitting up from where they’d previously been laying on the couch.

Michael swallowed. “I’m not a problem,” he said. “Let me help you.”

Geoff looked at him then. Michael almost took a step back.

Geoff was  _pissed._

Leaving the mess on the floor, he snatched Michael’s good arm in a tight grasp and marched the younger to the master room bathroom, where the mirror was big enough to fit almost five people side by side. Michael cringed at their reflections; neither of them was looking too hot.

Geoff let go of the bruising grip on his arm only to snatch Michael’s shirt and violently shove it upwards, revealing the large bandage. He undressed the wound with precision, making sure not to purposefully hurt Michael but not sparing the time to pull it away slowly. The stitches caught a little on the fabric.

“You,” Geoff said slowly, his voice shaking. “You are _the_  problem.”

“What?” Michael said hollowly. Geoff let go of him completely and turned to the sink.

“You’re not invisible, you know,” Geoff said, washing his hands. Michael blanched – Geoff was preparing the once every two days cleaning the wound required. Michael’s skin started to crawl at the memory of the first one he’d suffered, and that was at the hands of Ray. Geoff was going to scrub his ass into submission.

“Yeah?” Michael said bravely. He sat down regardless, ready to take whatever Geoff dished out. He wasn’t a chicken, and he sure as hell wasn’t a butterfly with damn glass wings. He could withstand a little soap.

“We see you, popping the pills like PEZ candy,” Geoff said casually, drying his hands and taking out the hospitalized soap that he’d been given when Michael was discharged. “Almost every hour on the hour.”

Michael gulped. He wasn’t that bad, was he? He didn’t move as Geoff wrestled his sling through his sleeve, stripping him of his shirt.

“I talked it over with Jack,” Geoff said, snapping the ends of his rubber gloves against his skin. He met Michael’s eyes. “He said it was no biggie, that you’d calm down after a few days. I agreed, even though I was pissed. You had surgery – it had to hurt. So I didn’t say anything.”

Michael held his breath as Geoff leaned forward, pressing chilly, rubbery fingers to the skin on either side of the small incision. He hissed when he poked and prodded the bruise, which was slowly beginning to turn a deep shade a purple. It looked better than the dark red, but still looked like he’d been gut-punched by the Hulk. Geoff seemed to agree, tsk-ing and making a face.

“So I continued to watch as you swallowed down fucking mouthfuls of pain pills,” Geoff said, wetting a cotton ball with water. He laughed humorlessly. “Now  _that_ was fun. It was like being treated to a live, on-screen overdose.”

“I would never overdose,” Michael frowned. He jumped when the cold water touched his bare skin. It sent goosebumps breaking out along his spine. “I’m not stupid.”

Geoff laughed again. The emptiness in the normally joyful, almost mistrustful chuckle made Michael shift uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know, I think you’re pretty damn stupid, Michael.”

Here came the shitty part. Michael watched with apprehension as Geoff slathered a few large cotton pads in a stinging solution that would make his skin ache for  _hours._ It felt like Ray had applied acid to his wound the last time he did it.

Geoff let the cotton balls saturate, setting them on a clinical pad and looking at Michael. “You’re stupid for a number of reasons.”

“Geoff –” Michael warned. His eyes widened when Geoff leaned down and hovered over his injury with the soaked pad. This was just unfair.

“One,” Geoff said, making the first swipe. Michael let out a small yelp, flinching back when his skin started to prickle in pain. “You thought you could get away with having broken ribs.”

He dabbed the pad into the little bowl full of the liquid. Michael bit his lip in pain. His eyes were watering, but he met his boss’ eyes with contempt.

“Two,” Geoff said flatly, and without hesitating, he pressed the pad once more to a different section of Michael’s laceration. Michael sucked in a tight breath, nose scrunching up in his desperation to not cry. “You thought it was okay to suffer each day in silence.”

Michael opened his mouth to refute that one – he didn’t think it was  _okay,_ he just thought he sorta deserved it. But at the expression on Geoff’s face, he quickly shut his gob. Geoff wasn’t the only one with things troubling his mind.

“Three,” Geoff said, and now his voice was shaking. He threw away the pad and grabbed a new one, dipping it in the bowl and letting it sit. “You think you’re a problem for all the wrong reasons.”

“Ouch!” Michael cried when Geoff pushed a little hard. Technically it was necessary – he had to get in between the stitches to disinfect. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch.

“Four. You ignore what everyone else might think in favor of what  _you_ think,” Geoff said, pushing the pads between the broken skin and drawing a long hiss from Michael’s lungs. Tears – from frustration and pain both – streamed down his cheeks at last when he blinked. The moisture was salty on his lips.

Geoff either didn’t notice or didn’t care for his tears. He took out the small, more textured pads and repeated the process. “Five. You don’t know how to handle emotions.”

“Six,” Geoff said without a pause this time. “You don’t realize that others have emotions, even if they’re guys.”

Michael swallowed against the lump in his throat. He quickly wiped at the tears running down his cheeks. His side was hurting, yeah, but the pain in his chest was close to making him start to _really_ cry. Geoff’s facial expression made his heart throb.

“Seven,” Geoff said evenly. “Seven… you didn’t think I’d forgive you.” He pulled out a new Ace bandage and began to redress the wound, and Michael knew he had to be nearing the end of his speech, because he tapped Michael back up and just stopped.

“And finally. Eight… you continue… you keep fucking  _doing_ it,” Geoff said, his voice breaking. Michael was shocked when the tattooed man’s head fell against his shoulder. Geoff’s hands slid from his wound to hold his waist in an intimate embrace, almost as if the man was afraid that Michael was going to get up and leave.

It was deathly quiet. All Michael could hear was his own breathing, tiny huffs due to the residual pain lancing up his spinal cord. Geoff’s forehead was warm against his shoulder. Haltingly, Michael raised a hand to brush the older man’s back before allowing his palm to setting just above the nape of his neck. His shaking fingers probably did nothing to comfort Geoff, but it made Michael feel a little stronger as he grounded himself.

“I will never understand,” Geoff said quietly. “How you can think so little of yourself, Michael.”

Michael pressed his lips into Geoff’s messy hair, hot tears burning his eyes. “I don’t,” he said, unsure or not if that was a lie.

Geoff looked up. Michael stared back into his gray eyes, shell-shocked at the desperation in Geoff’s eyes. Gloved hands came up to cup his cheeks, holding his head still as Geoff inched closer, their noses bumping slightly.

“I walked into that room first,” Geoff told him. “We came back from lunch early, because Ray had a bad feeling about leaving you there alone. We fucking… we knew something was up with you. And we didn’t even notice…”

Michael’s breathing picked up. Geoff rested his forehead against his, not allowing the redhead to look anywhere but his eyes. Michael wondered what his eyes must’ve looked like – red, watery, and full of regret. He was beginning to understand.

“I walked in first,” Geoff repeated. “I didn’t have someone there to tell me the ending, Michael. I didn’t have a spoiler. I saw you, collapsed on the floor and choking up blood, and I thought it was over. We’d really fucked up. You’d fucked up, but we fucked up the most. I thought you were dead, or well on your way there. I thought that was it. No one was there to tell me otherwise. That it was only a few broken ribs and a punctured lung. I didn’t know… I should have.”

Michael closed his eyes, feeling the hot liquid once more streak down his face, tracing the earlier path of his tears. He shook his head in Geoff’s grip. “I – I –”

“I don’t trust you anymore,” Geoff said. “But I sure as hell love you all the same. I know I’ve been awful the past few days, but you have to bear with me. Please. Please, Michael. Just bear with me.”

 _Stay with me_.

“Of course,” Michael breathed, staring into Geoff’s eyes. His breath hitched. “Of course. I’m so… _so_ sorry, Geoff, you –”

Geoff tilted his face upwards to catch Michael’s mouth in a gentle kiss, the softness of which made Michael’s pulse flutter. Geoff rarely kissed him with such reverence, their usual love-making rough and demanding and needy. This was slow and careful, but Michael couldn’t lie and say he was unhappy with it. It stoked the coal in his heart, embers warming the entirety of his chest. Michael kissed back just as slowly, as sensually, mentally recording each brush of their lips of stroke of their tongue. He wanted to remember this for as long as he lived. He felt branded, memorized by Geoff’s lips and tongue as he was kissed. It saddened him to think that maybe Geoff was doing just that – memorizing the feel of Michael’s mouth on his, in case one day it wasn’t.

“Are they kissing?”

They broke apart with an exasperated chuckle on Michael’s end. Geoff just looked like he was about to pass out from bliss.

“We can hear you!” Michael called, leaning his forehead against his boyfriend’s once more. He blinked slowly with the older man, feeling tired and oddly euphoric.

“Oh, bollocks!” was heard from the hallway. There were a few sharp smacking sounds followed by a curse.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Jack said gruffly, poking his head in the doorway. Michael could see the bearded man’s face erupt in a pink hue. “I’ll just – the carrots –”

He fled from the room. Gavin chased after him, asking rapid-fire questions about what he saw, what were they doing, and whether or not Michael was naked. Ryan’s voice floated down the hallway, telling the Brit to shut up and let them have their moment.

Ray, however, peaked around the corner and shot the two of them a grin, giving the pair a thumbs up before quietly closing the door to the bedroom, leaving the two in silence.

Michael turned to smile at Geoff, the older man echoing a much weaker, more tired version of it back at him. Michael took his hand and let him to the bed. “Now you’re the one being stupid,” Michael said, tucking him in. He shivered without his shirt on. “Get some rest, idiot.”

Michael went to turn in order to retrieve his shirt, but a tattooed hand shot out from the blankets to grab his wrist. Michael looked down at him questioningly, smiling as he was wordlessly tugged back towards the bed, until he just gave in and crawled under the sheets. Geoff’s body heat warmed him instantly, and large arms hugged him close, the tattooed man’s face pressing into the crook of his neck. The familiar smell of  _Geoff_ that had been missing the past few days surrounded him instantly, making him feel intoxicated with elation.

“I guess we’re just both stupid,” Geoff said softly into Michael’s neck. Michael barely had time to nod before they both drifted off to sleep.


End file.
